


The Horse and His (Co-star's) Boy

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone thinks Bradley's just a little bit gay for Colin. Bradley thinks the only sensible person on set is the horse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Horse and His (Co-star's) Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to C.S. Lewis for doing nefarious things to his title.

It started with an email from his cousin.

_I can't believe I didn't know you were gay!!!_, it read.

_But Mum says she always thought so and anyway I know a guy who coaches rugby who is totally gay too, you should meet him next time you come home! He is really cute!!!_

Bradley read through this carefully and then pressed the reply button.

_Your sense of humour is dreadful,_ he typed. _Work harder in school so that you may not turn out to be a complete failure at everything._

_Love Bradley._

*

"Hey," Colin said the next morning, when the sky was still the bruised blue of far-too-early. He was bent over a script and yawned helplessly as Bradley took the seat next to him.

"I am being persecuted by my cousin," Bradley replied.

"Are you?"

"_Yes_," Bradley said oppressively. "She thinks I'm _gay_. Apparently. Which I'm not."

"Really," Colin said unsympathetically. He peered at Bradley in a speculative fashion and then said, "So, what d'you think of this scene in the forest?"

Bradley wrestled with himself for a moment, sitting there in the pale light: either Colin didn't appreciate the magnitude of his suffering (in which case Bradley should educate him) or he just didn't want to know.

It was a toss-up, as it always was when trying to decipher the mind of Colin Morgan, but Bradley decided to take the path of least resistance — it was a revolting hour and his boots were already chafing him and it was probably going to be one of those days. 

The scene in the forest: "It would be better if you weren't in it," he said. "But otherwise it's pretty good."

"Yeah, it's brilliant," Colin said cheerily and handed over his script. "Let's run lines."

Colin was good at distracting Bradley from all sorts of things, and so he didn't even think of the email for the rest of the day. In fact, he probably would have forgotten about it entirely if not for the arrival of the second message a few days later.

_Come on, Bradles, you can tell me about your forbidden love!! Is he a good kisser????_

It was such a ludicrous suggestion that Bradley choked a little on his sandwich. He thought he could feel a bit of lettuce clinging desperately to his windpipe while he struggled not to die, and cursed every person who had ever said vegetables were _good for him_.

Once he could breathe properly he wrote back: 

_1\. Congratulations, you have reached new heights of insanity. COLIN MORGAN for Christ's sake; I'd be more likely to date David Tennant!_

_(I am NOT dating David Tennant.)_

_2\. People planning to attend King's College should not use so many exclamation marks._

_And don't call me Bradles._

He had a reply in his inbox a moment later; it read only: _LOL_.

Bradley shut his laptop and chewed on the remains of his sandwich in great confusion. He had no idea his innocent young cousin was so devious. If not for his aching esophagus, and the embarrassment which would have surely resulted from death by _lettuce_, he would feel almost proud of her.

He told Katie about it during a break in filming, because she was always good for a few snarky comments. Just as he was relating the second email, Katie interrupted, exclaiming, "Oh!" 

"What?" Bradley asked.

"Colin," she said.

Bradley looked over his shoulder: no one was there. "Is this an unfortunate medical condition?" he asked. "Spontaneous mentioning of Colin?"

"Hilarious," Katie replied. "I just realised, that's all."

Bradley hoped his expectant face would do his prodding for him.

"Colin," Katie said again, a diabolical glint in her eye. "Of course! I have to find Angel."

"I don't think you're all there, McGrath," Bradley called out as Katie hurried off. He threw himself down in a chair, feeling very poorly appreciated. "Clearly a few sandwiches short of a picnic. A few swords short of an armoury!" he smirked, getting into the swing of things. "A few Col — oh, bugger."

That was the trouble with sharing a set with a small bunch of people for months on end. You ended up sharing their neuroses, too.

*

Naturally, Katie's madness spread to Angel immediately.

"What's this I hear about you and Colin?" Angel asked, joining him in the catering line.

"That he's jealous of my amazing — everything?" Bradley offered.

Angel's mouth was fighting a smile. "More like, you're obsessed with him and you won't leave him alone. Really, Bradley," she said. "Try to be professional."

"Katie!" Bradley said vehemently.

"Katie," Angel agreed. "Anyway, I think it's lovely. It's like life imitating art."

"Not quite — Morgana isn't _that_ annoying."

Angel rolled her eyes. "I know you're not that dense, Bradley."

"I'll have you know that I am very dense. I am dense like _concrete_."

He heard a wheeze of laughter behind him which was very familiar. 

"Hi, Tony," he sighed.

*

No matter how hard he tried, Bradley couldn't get Katie to stand still long enough to exact his revenge (type: undetermined). Things eventually came to a strange pass when he trailed her all the way to the stables only to find himself ankle-deep in hay and being sniffed by a tall, dark horse — with Katie nowhere to be seen.

"Hello," he said. "Good horse. You're a real beauty, aren't you." He reached up to scratch the horse behind the ears; dogs always seemed to like that. "What's your name, then, hey? Something heroic obviously. Maybe something Arthurian."

"His name's Twiddle," said a passing animal steward, giving the horse a firm slap on the rump.

"Oh," said Bradley.

*

On Thursday Bradley spent his free time listening to his iPod as he looked around the castle; it was one of those things he never got tired of seeing. Unit Two were setting up for a scene in the Great Hall, their movements disturbing old dust; he could see it swirling in the white columns of light filtering down through the windows.

Tony, sitting on Uther's throne with a crown perched rakishly on his head, looked up briefly from his Nintendo.

"Bradley," he said. "Colin isn't here."

"I don't want Colin," Bradley said, feeling aggrieved. He leaned over Tony's shoulder and watched a tiny Mario running around a tiny castle in a completely pointless fashion.

"Got any good stuff on there?" Tony said after a moment. He pointed to Bradley's iPod. 

"Er," said Bradley, suddenly remembering he had uploaded a bunch of Tony's songs a few weeks ago. "Some. Uh, where did you say Colin was?"

Tony smiled a little. It might even have been a smirk.

"He's probably following the sun around the courtyard."

"We should give up and make _Caribbean Merlin_ instead," Bradley declared, realising his tour around the castle meant he'd have to visit the courtyard today anyway, and if _he_ didn't save Colin from himself, who would?

"I think we should just give up," he said to Colin, who was indeed sitting on the steps in the bright sunshine, "and make _Caribbean Merlin_ instead. We can all get tans and drink tropical things."

Colin squinted up at him; the mad blighter didn't even own sunglasses. Then he smiled.

"We could save Camelot in Hawaiian shirts," he said, grinning. "And eat pineapple."

At least _someone_ had a proper sense of humour around here. Tony hadn't even blinked at that joke and it was clearly hilarious. "You know you can eat pineapple right here in England, mate," Bradley said. "There are these things called supermarkets."

"Right here in France, actually."

"Whatever," said Bradley, and stood there feeling a bit awkward when Colin went back to his book.

"Your horse's name is Twiddle, by the way," he said.

"Hmm," Colin murmured, and turned a page.

Bradley stuck one of his earbuds back in and tapped his foot along to Beyonce for a bit.

"And Katie thinks I fancy you."

Colin ran one slim finger down the page. "Katie?" he said distantly.

"Yes," said Bradley, and went to sit in his trailer and sign photos of himself.

*

The trouble with Colin was that his sense of humour was poorly wired. Sometimes it sparked and sometimes there was a gaping black hole of nothingness where there _should_ have been laughter. Where there should have been amusement, simple and clear.

*

Bradley was sure that if Katie had just laughed at his email story and mocked him a little, as he had been expecting, then Friday night would not have found him washed up in a little pub with Angel, boring the ever-loving hell out of them both. "I just don't know why it's funny," he explained. "I mean, clearly I'm missing something here."

"You're not going to give me some shit about how it's bad to be gay or something, are you?" Angel said, tucking her legs underneath her and stealing Bradley's beer.

"Uh, _no_," Bradley said. "I wasn't even talking about that."

"No," Angel agreed. "But Katie says—"

"Oh, _Katie_."

Angel grinned at him, bright and lovely. Not that he'd tell her that.

"Anyway. Colin's adorable. He's such a sweetheart."

"So's my next door neighbour at home. Doesn't mean I want to date her, because she's _not my type_. Also she's eighty," Bradley reflected.

Angel took a long swig of his beer and wrinkled her nose at it. "Pils?" 

"It was the most expensive one they had," he said morosely, putting his head down on the table. It was sticky and smelled strongly of smoke, and he felt abruptly homesick.

"And you needed expensive beer because you're secretly lusting after Colin and his luscious lips and you don't know how to admit it?"

"Oh, god," Bradley groaned.

Over the weekend he shrugged into his most comfortable hoodie and went to the shops. He bought some carrots and some grapes, and made sure to give the pyramid of lettuce a quelling look just on principle. On Monday he managed to get to the stables just as the sun was setting over the turrets of Pierrefonds, illicit vegetables tucked firmly into his coat pockets.

"It's not like the person who actually rides you around take after take would give you anything," he explained. "Or take care of you."

He stood carefully still while the horse nosed at his pockets and whuffled against his neck — it was a bit nice, actually — and then he held out a carrot stick.

"I suppose the good thing about your life," he mused, "is that none of the other horses try to convince you that you're gay. And you can just go about your business and not have to say things to people, like that you have definitely dated _women_, thanks very much, and also that _luscious_ is not a word you would ever use because you're not a big _girl_ like Angel, and it's completely irrelevant if Colin is stupidly charming or not, because he doesn't even like me that much and I don't even want him to! So clearly I'm right and Angel is off her head."

Twiddle munched quietly on his carrot; it was almost as if he agreed.

Bradley felt it was a very satisfying talk.

*

Of course, the _Merlin_ set being what it was (some sort of Matrix but with more mud and cigarettes), it took approximately 0.3 seconds for Katie's rumour to get around to absolutely everyone.

The worst of it was when the crew started making jokes when Colin and Bradley were in the same room: it screwed with Bradley's plausible deniability, among other things.

"Look out, Colin," one of the lighting techs said, "it's your crazy stalker!"

Everyone chuckled. Or at least, it felt like everyone. Tony was too busy jumping up and down in his mail and turning steadily pink to pay attention, and Margaret was trying to make an extra's fake blood drip the right way. Very keen on fake blood, was Margaret.

"Yeah, I know," said Colin, lifting his chin, his expression happy. "I think it's best to stay close so I can keep an eye on him. In case he starts getting weapons or something."

"He's already got weapons," someone else pointed out.

"And I sincerely hope I don't trip and skewer a crew member," Bradley said. "Although workplace accidents do happen."

"I'll have to use my magic to stop you," Colin murmured, taking up his position at Bradley's shoulder.

"You can't, you can only use your magic to _protect_ me," Bradley said.

"But I'm still sort of in training, so maybe it would be an accident and your head would just fall off."

"But _I_ am incredibly fast with my sword and I could chop _your_ head off before you'd even finished saying your little spell."

"God, you're both dorks," Katie declared.

Sometimes, Bradley decided, it was good to put a bit of distance between himself and the few hundred comedians mistakenly hired to work on the show. He soon discovered that Twiddle liked apples as well as carrots, but he wasn't too keen on grapes, and if the flicking of his black pointy ears was anything to go by, he agreed that everyone on the set was an absolute twat, with the exception of Richard and Tony, and Santiago if he were there, and also Cara from wardrobe.

Horses were _excellent_.

*

"What do you think he's doing?" Katie asked.

Bradley squinted at Colin, who stood some yards away talking to one of the crew. He was waving his arms around in a manner reminiscent of —

"Interpretive dance?" Bradley suggested.

Katie frowned. "Chasing bugs?"

"Re-enacting the Battle of Britain?"

"So You Think You Can Dance?"

"So You Think You Can Seizure?"

"I don't think that's proper grammar," Katie said, "but I'll pay it."

Colin turned around and spotted them, flashed a grin and then looked away. He seemed to hesitate and then called out, "I'm having lunch!" 

Then he ambled off in the direction of catering.

"I don't know how you've done it," Katie mused, "but I think he's even madder than before."

"_Me_," Bradley protested, "What _I've_ done! I think you at least have to blame his parents first."

Katie gave him a wicked smile. "Poor boy," she said sympathetically. "He's so sweet. He's gone all flustered since he found out."

Bradley stared at her. "Found out what?"

But Katie only blinked innocently and smiled at Jeremy when he came over to talk about the next scene.

Bradley could guess at her meaning, but he thought that she was wrong. He had watched Colin carefully for any sign that he might have heard what Bradley had said, that day on the steps — that he might have heard and taken it the wrong way.

But Colin didn't seem any different and whenever he caught Bradley looking he just smiled, friendly and a bit awkward, a bit thoughtful, and that was just Colin. That was normal.

Colin smiled at everyone.

*

It was the middle of a long, tiring week when Bradley next checked his email.

_J/k Bradders,_ his cousin had written, _I don't think he's your type, does he even play football? (And have you told him you've got a gorgeous cousin who's going to King's next year???? YOU OWE ME.) Don't forget about that rugby coach, his name's Tim! I can totally set you up! You can explore your gayness with him! Haha xxx_

Bradley scowled and sent her a dozen pictures of Robbie Williams, and imagined he could hear the shriek of horror all the way from Devon.

*

The dark lurch of homesickness that had assailed Bradley in the pub grew worse when the rain started falling over Oise. It made everything wet and miserable and colours somehow brighter; Arthur's red surcoat hung from a door like a proud flag, brilliant in the surrounding gloom, calling all attention. Looking at it, Bradley thought the spaces between he and Arthur seemed very large. 

Nearby, Colin stood at the edge of his umbrella getting the toes of his boots sodden. His eyes flicked past Bradley's again and again, restless or ill-timed or — Bradley didn't know. Flustered, Katie had said.

The rain lasted three days — long, quiet days — and then the summer heat broke over them as if it had always been there.

*

Bradley knocked on Colin's door that night.

"Alright?" he said when the door opened. "Been watching the match?"

Colin was licking something off the side of his hand. "Who is it?" he asked, turning back into the apartment.

"Grenoble and someone. One of them's getting slaughtered. What are you eating?"

"Er, it's just some fruit and stuff. Dip, you know."

"Weird hippy food, you mean," said Bradley, unimpressed.

"Yeah," Colin grinned. 

Bradley stuck a finger in the dip and tried it anyway; it wasn't too bad. "Do these come in steak flavour?"

Colin rolled his eyes and Bradley threw himself onto Colin's bed. There were clothes piled on the chair, it's not like he could sit there.

"Colin," Bradley said very seriously. "I am about to die of boredom. We need to do something about this, mate."

"Any suggestions?" Colin asked, clearing the plate away from Bradley's elbow.

"Do you have beer?"

"No," Colin said.

"Well, I'm all out of ideas," Bradley replied, throwing his hands up.

"Oh, you're an ideas man, you are."

"We could prank the girls, I suppose. One of them. I do have a need to avenge myself against Katie."

"Is this some sort of feud I don't know about?" Colin called as he disappeared into the tiny kitchen.

Bradley stared at the ceiling for a while.

"I'll take that as a 'yes, Colin'," Colin said, reappearing and leaning against the door frame.

"_Yes, Colin_," Bradley said. "Anyway, I already told you about it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did—"

"She thinks I'm —" Bradley said quickly. "You know. That stupid thing. It's stupid."

There was a silence during which Bradley examined the ceiling a bit more. It was a sort of bland off-white, he decided. One of those neutral colours designed not to give offense.

"You've been taking care of my horse," Colin said unexpectedly and Bradley struggled to control a sudden blush. 

"He's not actually your horse, Colin, you do realise that. He's not even _Merlin's_ horse."

"I'm the one that rides him, though. And you've been going to see him, and taking him sweets and things."

Bradley sat up and then stood, busying himself with adjusting his hoodie. Probably now was a good time to go check on that match anyway.

"Carrots, actually. And sometimes he likes apples." Bradley looked up and shrugged diffidently. "Not important."

Colin shifted on his feet a bit and said, "I think it's nice."

"Oh, do you?" Bradley said scathingly. "Oh, thank you, I'm so glad you approve of my friendship with your _horse_, Colin."

Colin's mouth wavered, like it wanted to grin and Bradley turned his glare up to _eleven_. 

"I see what this is," Colin replied and Bradley's heart thumped hard; it was very uncomfortable. "You don't want anyone to know you're the kind of person who takes nice things to other people's horses so that they're happy."

"Wow, how lucky we are to have you here, Freud."

"You don't want people to know you're actually a bit of a sweetheart," Colin went on, ignoring Bradley's sarcasm.

The very idea was revolting. Him, a _sweetheart_. God, it was alarming, how hot Bradley's face was feeling. And it wasn't getting any more comfortable with Colin _inching_ his way over like that, as if Bradley was some sort of frightened animal that might run away.

Well, he wasn't. Bradley crossed his arms and raised his chin in defiance of this — whatever it was that Colin was trying to do — but Colin was actually taller than Bradley and when he got near enough he only had to lean just a little bit to make all Bradley's defences obsolete. 

"Listen, mate —" Bradley began. 

But then Colin moved and suddenly his mouth was shockingly close. Bradley could feel Colin breathing, quick and shallow; the warmth made his lips tingle.

"I'd like to kiss you," Colin murmured. "Please," he added politely.

Bradley stared. Colin stared back. 

"Um," said Bradley, and then because Colin is an impatient git he leaned over and kissed Bradley anyway.

*

Bradley hadn't been expecting Colin to kiss him so the fact that one kiss somehow led to this, to Bradley splayed out in bed with Colin riding his cock naked — oh, god. Oh, _christ_.

Bradley stared up at the sight of him, at the pink flush in Colin's cheeks and down his neck and all over his long cock, jutting out hard from his pale body and jerking whenever Colin twisted his hips and —

"This is fucking amazing," Bradley realised.

Colin's eyes flickered open and looked down at him. "You liking it then?" he said, breathless and cheeky.

"Fuck," Bradley moaned, his toes curling. Colin only rode him faster, stuffing Bradley's cock up inside of him like he loved having it there. "Fuck, Colin," Bradley gasped, "fucking, _Colin_, you _bastard_, oh, god."

Moving steadily above him, Colin's whole face lit up with pleasure.

*

Bradley wiped the sweat off his forehead and said, "I think we should try some other things." He'd stripped off the rest of his clothes and was now recovered enough to be able to think clearly. Colin was lounging beside him on the bed, still utterly naked, and he was beginning to look a little, well, like he actually secretly liked Bradley after all. It was unnerving, because Colin didn't do that sort of thing. Colin was _nice_ to people, not — not fond.

To distract him, Bradley started making a list. "Blow jobs, obviously," he said, ticking it off his fingers. "Doing _that_ in, you know, other places. And positions," he added fairly. "What else? There must be masses of stuff."

"So, you want to do it again?" Colin said.

"Pay attention, mate. I've only been saying so for the last five minutes."

He was about to start his list again when Colin rolled over and stuck his tongue in Bradley's mouth, which was fantastic, and then pulled back and kissed Bradley's cheek and his top lip and then the bridge of his nose, which was somehow better. Bradley didn't even want to speak lest he disturb whatever it was Colin was doing. 

But Colin did stop, and he hovered over Bradley, looking down at him with a watchful expression and the tension pulled Bradley so taut he had to say, "Come here," in a much quieter voice than he'd wanted.

Bradley tugged him in close, splaying wide hands over all that fine skin. He sucked a kiss onto Colin's bottom lip and then licked into his pink mouth, licked at his teeth and the edge of his tongue and felt victorious when Colin shuddered against him. 

"All the fucking time," Bradley said. "We're going to be doing this..."

Colin smiled, stupidly bashful considering he'd just given Bradley a painfully-good orgasm.

Bradley stared. "I can't believe you're actually being _shy_ after that."

"M'not," Colin protested, and there was something in the demure way his eyes were lowered, and the knowingly sinful curve of his mouth that made Bradley want him all over again, _right now_. 

Colin looked up. "Just wondering, you know, if that's all you've got?" he asked, his expression clearing into a challenge. "'Cause I think I might be starting to get bored now."

"Oh, _right_," Bradley said, and tried to roll them both over — they grappled for a moment, then there was a thump as Colin slid right off the edge of the bed.

"That didn't go according to plan," Bradley admitted as Colin shook with laughter on the floor. The only way to shut him up was to reach down with one leg and rub toes in his face (the classic Bradley James Victory Manoeuvre).

That didn't go according to plan, either.

*

"It's just that you said you weren't gay," Colin said later, digging his pointy chin into Bradley's sternum in a way which was very annoying. His stupid ears were right in Bradley's line of sight, and Bradley wanted to touch them.

"I'm not," Bradley said reflexively. He had a sudden flashback to earlier, on the floor, and the feel of Colin's cock hot and hard against his own stomach. Even the memory sent a frisson down his spine. "I never said I was straight," he added.

"Right," Colin said. "No, I just meant, I didn't think you liked guys at all. Just women, you know. Not that I really knew, you know, either way."

"I could murder a steak right now," Bradley said a little desperately. 

"Are you freaking out?" Colin asked, wide-eyed.

"I am not _freaking out_."

It was all the _talking_ that was bothering him. And the way Colin kept looking at him, like the stupid moron didn't even have the sense to pretend he didn't care, which was the way you were meant to go about these things, these casual, inadvisable, sleeping-with-your-mate things. You were supposed to be all cool and aloof, or at least cynical. Maybe, any minute now, Colin was going to get with the programme and realise what they'd done, how they'd buggered up their professional working relationship, not to mention being mates, and it was all going to be a giant, horrible, career-ruining _mess_.

"I can't believe my horse's name is Twiddle," Colin said. He started grinning, his eyes scrunching up with laughter. "What kind of a name is that for a horse? Twiddle!"

"Not just for a horse, for anything!" corrected Bradley, an unsteady relief sweeping through him.

"Maybe like a lizard or something. Or a spider."

"You would not call a spider Twiddle. Or _anything_," Bradley repeated.

But Colin, who was horrible and only pretended to be sane, smacked Bradley's stomach and rolled to his feet.

"I'm hungry. Last one in the kitchen is a loser," he yelled over his shoulder. "Tu es loser!"

"Oh, my God, you've learned some French. And it's wrong French. Another sign that you are completely mad! My incredible cock has made you _lose your mind_!" Bradley called after him.

A heavy thump sounded through the bedroom wall. And then another one straight after, and then Bradley remembered that Angel's apartment was right next door and she had probably just heard all sorts of — things. Mortifying gay sex-type things in Colin's bedroom. Well, she probably thought it was Colin in here with someone else, some complete stranger, Bradley reasoned in a totally calm manner — but it didn't seem very likely. And also Bradley had just been shouting at the top of his voice, which he had to admit was rather incriminating.

"Piss off, Coulby!" he yelled.

*

Heading in to work the next morning gave Bradley a moment of nerves, he wouldn't deny, but no one gave him any grief over having become Colin Morgan's, er, mate who he had sex with. Angel had obviously told Katie, but seemingly to everyone else it was just another day at work, ordinary and busy, full of a million little jobs. Some rebellious streak inside Bradley made him want to drop the news into a conversation just to be shocking, but he managed to quash the urge and carrying on looking completely normal, and not at all as though he'd spent last night having his brains shagged out by Colin Morgan. Twice.

("So your cousin was right," Katie said, peering down at him with all of Morgana's terrifying hauteur, which seemed even greater from her high vantage point atop a horse. 

Bradly scoffed. "That's like saying the internet is right."

Katie awkwardly patted the horse's neck. "Right," she agreed. "Have you seen my scarf? It's actually colder up here than on the ground.")

Katie and Angel did giggle at him a bit, sitting with their heads together that afternoon, but they laughed a lot more at Colin, who blushed and grinned and was generally a softer target than a puppy. He was good-natured and didn't seem bothered by it but Bradley hung around anyway, close enough to be a distraction in case it was needed. Despite Colin's reserve he didn't protect himself enough, and it was clear that Bradley was going to have to step in and make sure the stupid git didn't get into any trouble, now that Bradley might be sort of responsible for his happiness and all. Just as his mate, of course. It's not like there was any sort of _arrangement_ between them.

"Drink later?" Colin asked as they passed each other on set.

"Yes," said Bradley.

*

That night Bradley got out of bed to reply to his cousin's email.

He shoved Colin out of the way when he got back in, and then tugged him close again so that he was sprawled against Bradley, sleep-soft and warm, already familiar.

_Rumours are never, ever to be believed,_ he had written. _They are great sucking holes of_ — he'd tried to think of an accurate description — _suck_.

 

_And I don't need to meet your rugby coach. Thanks anyway._


End file.
